|Shut the Door, Baby Don't Say a Word
Author: The Moving Pen PM
One shot replacement scene from "The Rejected" season 4 . Peggy and Pete.Rated: Fiction T - English - Words: 824 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 7 - Published: 05-03-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8083017
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
One Shot from "The Rejected" Season 4.
Shut the door baby (don't say a word)
"Oh yes, that is…news." And she nods, a smile plastered stiffly on her face, because what else can she do, and turns to leave. She's barely past the door when Pete calls her name and she freezes, indecision flooding through her. Stiffening her shoulders with mental resolve she turns and he's already standing there, coming after her. He's so close she can feel his heat, but those last few fractions of distance that separate them seem like miles.
"I wish it had been you," he whispers the words and they caress and break her heart all at the same time. He sees the hurt in her eyes, tears pooling and blurring her vision, and he puts a hand to her face, cradling her cheek. Somehow she finds the strength to stand still, to not turn into the embrace.
"It was me," she whispers back, her voice breaking.
A sigh of frustration is wrenched from him. "That's…it's not what I meant," and his eloquence is gone replaced by the naked hurt and want and need. The tears spill over, but she doesn't notice, she's captivated by his face, the one she still sees in her dreams.
"Don't cry," he says, his thumb moving across her cheek to catch the tears.
"I'm not," she replies. And she believes it, until she feels the cold wetness on his thumb rubbing against her.
And then suddenly they're closer than they have ever been before, his hands around her waist clutching her like he won't let go, and her arms are around his neck and they embrace furiously, passionately. He takes a few small steps forward, pressing her against the wall, as if he is trying to step inside her, wear her skin.
They're breathing faster now, and she can feel the heat in her cheeks as he kisses away her tears and down her neck. She's desperate for the feel of her mouth on his, and she tugs his head back up.
"God how I've missed you," he mutters before his mouth descends, and her words are caught up in him, replaced by the bruising kisses.
And then it's over, and his head is buried in her shoulder, her hair. She can hear the pain in his words as he repeats "I've missed you."
"Pete," she begins, and he can sense the apology he doesn't want to hear. He lifts his head, but he doesn't move away and she can feel all of him against her and it feels so good and so right. And she can see the pain, all the pain, of the hours, days, weeks, yearssince they've been together like this.
"I tried," he says. "And you pushed me away, didn't want me."
And she remembers that day, so long ago, when he told her he loved her.
And she nods, because what else can she do. "We can't do this," she says. But he still doesn't move away. "You can't leave Trudy. You'll have two children without a father."
"They have a father," he snaps and she can hear the agony. "I am their father, my absence doesn't change that."
And she nods, because what else can she do. "That's…it's not what I meant," and she echoes his words. Because it's always felt like they're the same person anyway.
He rests his head against hers and closes his eyes. "It's torture, you know," he says and his breath puffs over her face and she feels like they've never been further apart. "Being here, being with you, watching you, seeing you smile and laugh at other people, but never for me. Never withme."
And it is her hand that cradles his face now, that traces the path of the tears that want to fall.
"Pete," she whispers, and he leans into her hand. "I love you."
And the tears are falling, crashing over her hand and his whole frame shakes as he sobs against her. A mixture of relief and pity and fear. She holds him tighter than anything else she's ever held, than she ever thought she could hold someone.
She ducks down under his face, her hands on his cheeks, lifting him to her.
"But we can't do this," she says. And the sobs disappear as quickly as they began, that expressionless mask falls back into place.
And he nods. Because what else can he do?
She turns to leave, and this time he lets her.
"Shut the door on your way out." They are his last words to her, and they both know what it means.
And she nods. Because what else can she do.